


Reclaiming Ownership

by Anonymous



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crying, Dom/sub, Gags, M/M, Mutter Era, Possessive Behavior, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26006863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Initially, Schneider found the concept of Paul getting spanked by Snow White hilarious. But, as it turns out, it only made him angry and possessive. After all, Paul ishissub. He has to reclaim that. So, he spanks him immediately after.
Relationships: Paul Landers/Christoph Schneider | Doom
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29
Collections: Anonymous





	Reclaiming Ownership

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys this is Arrestzelle (Brig). I'm posting this anonymously because the content matter isn't something I want on my AO3 profile permanently. Far too indulgent lmao. I wasn't going to publish this originally, but I figured others would want to read this as well. 
> 
> This was inspired by a couple sentences I wrote in my other recently published Schneider/Paul fic "Constellations Behind Closed Eyes": " _His hole is well-fucked, reddened and absolutely slick with lube. Schneider wants to spank him there. Force him over his knee, command him to keep himself spread while Schneider had his fun. He’ll have to bring that concept up sometime._ " While writing that, I paused, and was like "wait, why don't I just write that?" so in the middle of writing _that_ fic, I paused and busted out _this_ fic.

Possessiveness is a trait of his that had expectedly come hand in hand with being Paul’s dominant. The unanimous decision that Paul were to be the one spanked, of course, was the way it was undoubtedly going to unfold. Schneider had the privilege of really knowing what spanking meant to Paul, and how that would only worsen his humiliation in this position for the shooting. So, he had agreed with jeering laughter. 

But, upon witnessing him climb onto the lap of the man who acted as their Snow White, pants to his thighs, exposing that cute little round butt to the entirety of the set, anticipating a spanking—Schneider had frozen, realizing that he does _not_ like this. He should be the one in Mr. Snow White’s place, spanking Paul in full display of the others. 

While everyone had laughed uproariously when reviewing the footage, and Paul himself had blushed and giggled along with it, Schneider found himself unable to pretend that he finds it just as amusing as the others. No, in fact, he’s a bit angry. The need to reclaim Paul as _his_ pulls at him. 

Needless to say, the rest of the day spent shooting was tense and no longer quite as fun for Schneider. Paul obviously noticed. He would look at him with concerned eyes and a weak smile, and often did things if only to make Schneider smile or laugh—but never succeeded. Like chucking food at Till with a spoon. Surely, Paul thought that was gold.

Eventually, they change back into their casual clothing, clean up, pack up, and head back to the hotel.

“So, what’s the matter with you?” Paul asks as soon as the door is shut, having trailed Schneider into _his_ hotel room. What a gentle segway into this unavoidable conversation. 

Schneider’s defensiveness peaks. He drops his bag onto the bed, rubs at his brow with a frustrated hand, and turns to face Paul. Paul is giving him a stubborn look, brow furrowed, lips in a pouting frown that he probably intended to appear upset, but honestly only looked cute on him. Schneider almost snorts. He just exhales heavily, releasing his rising irritation, and shakes his head. 

“It was the spanking, wasn’t it?” Paul prods, stepping further into the room to drop his bag on the floor. Schneider’s gaze snaps up to train on Paul’s. Paul grins, rolling his eyes.

“You are so predictable. I knew that would bother you. You are so silly and possessive.”

Schneider huffs.

“Excuse me for not enjoying it. You were put in the same exact position as we often practice, but this time, it was like I was being cuckolded. I had to stand by and watch as he _spanked you_ ¸Paul. Of course it would challenge me.”

Pressing his lips together, Paul pauses, contemplating, and then nods a little. He runs a hand up through his dark hair, sighing, and then gestures with it, saying, “Well, then… Maybe… We can rectify it. Obviously, you didn’t enjoy it. Obviously, it was a big, fat no-no. So what do we do with no-no’s around here, Schneider? Between you and me, _sir?”_

Schneider pauses. Paul says this with a pointed look in his eyes, gesturing between them with a hand. 

“Wait,” Schneider begins, “You want to do it, now? Here?”

Paul smiles thinly. He shrugs with a raise of his hands.

“I don’t know. I guess that’s just up to you. Whether you think the punishment fits the crime. After all, you’re the one in control here.”

Schneider’s belly is pulled with a curious burst of arousal. His face is hot. They haven’t done this before. Engaged in something so brutally blatant around the others. Spanking isn’t exactly a quiet activity. Schneider is nervous, thinking about it, but oh so terribly turned on by the concept. The others, like at the video shoot, knowing that Paul is getting spanked, _knowing_ who it is this time. But without _actually_ having concrete, undeniable proof that it’s the two of them. They returned to the hotel later than the others because Paul wanted to stop and get a drink somewhere. So who’s to say is in Schneider’s hotel room right now, getting their ass spanked?

Schneider knows this is going to happen—he’s not even trying to talk himself out of it. 

Paul is watching him with a knowing little smile. Schneider exhales, speaking quietly now with a calm demeanor. 

“I—I’ll have to gag you. The others are in the vicinity.”

Paul nods. Schneider points to the floor at the foot of the bed. Paul grins. He immediately kicks off his shoes. Crossing over, Paul easily drops to his knees, no hesitation—knowing just where he belongs. Schneider is already half-hard in his pants. He turns to dig into his bag, finding the cloth gag he always brings along—its purpose is ambiguous enough to not be incriminating if the others were to find it. He also grabs a clean sock, neatly folded. Rounding the bed, he stands behind Paul. Paul cranes his head back, looking up at him with amused eyes and a cute smile. He opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue teasingly. Schneider grins. 

“Brat,” he mutters, pushing the folded sock into his mouth, earning a grunt of surprise from the elder man. He then fixes the cloth between his teeth, fastening it tightly around his head, keeping both it and the sock wedged into his mouth. Paul grumbles quietly around it, looking back at him with embarrassed eyes, submissive in nature. Schneider is so aroused, his mind is a fog already. He still can’t believe that they’re doing this. Till’s room is next door. He doesn’t even know if the others are still at the hotel, and somehow, it’s the not knowing that contributes to his excitement. 

“You’ve been a slut, haven’t you, Paul?” Schneider begins lowly, a guttural growl, slipping more and more into his role the longer he thinks about this, how he’s about to pull him over his lap and spank him for everyone to hear. Paul nods immediately, closing his eyes tightly. Schneider places a big hand on the back of his head, gripping a fistful of his hair. Paul whimpers, but doesn’t fight it. Schneider stands over him calmly, holding him still as he continues.

“Am I not good enough? Going to _other men_ to fulfill your needs? My hand isn’t sufficient enough for you, evidently. But I can prove you wrong.”

Paul whimpers softly, muffled around the cloth stuffed in his mouth. He’s kneeling low, back curled and hands clenched together in his lap—he’s making himself smaller, a reflection of his submissive apologies. It satisfies Schneider. But not enough.

“Get up,” he icily commands. Paul shakily unravels his legs, moving to stand. Keeping the fistful of his hair, Schneider pulls him by it, earning a pained grunt as he forces the smaller man over the bed—Paul plants his hands upon it. Bent over the foot of the bed, Paul is left waiting. Schneider releases his hair. Instead, he reaches down to unbutton Paul’s pants and hike them down, along with his briefs, exposing his hardening shaft, freckled thighs, and his cute ass. Schneider lets the articles of clothing pool at his knees. Then he rounds the bed, taking a seat, and simply places his hands against his jean-clad thighs—waiting. Paul huffs noisily. Head low and eyes lower, Paul quietly crawls over the bed, onto his lap. His pants and briefs are still around his knees. He drops onto Schneider’s thighs, his cock slipping between them. 

Eagerly, Schneider begins roaming one hand over the smooth canvas of his soft asscheeks, round and perfect under his touch. Paul’s ass is just meant to be spanked. The man himself constantly asks for it, as well, considering his unbearable behavior half the time he opens his mouth. It’s only right that he ended up in this position, as his sub, getting spanked every week. 

Schneider gropes at his cute ass with that ravenous hand, the other pushing up his simple black shirt, exposing his back and freckled shoulder blades. He runs his hand all along the wide plane of his torso, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin—as well as bringing Paul deeper into the headspace he should be in by now. Knowing better, Schneider waits before he begins spanking. He doesn’t want Paul to just sit through it with disinterest, if only to cater to Schneider’s wants.

“Do you think you deserve this, you brat?” Schneider murmurs roughly, skimming his fingernails lightly over the skin of his ass, watching it rise with goosebumps. Paul is breathing hard through his nose already. He ducks his head down, resting it against his crossed wrists, and nods shyly. Schneider gropes at his ass again, harder now, and growls with restraint, “I’m sure you loved being spanked in front of the others. A filthy display, showing how much of a selfish brat you are, enjoying the hand of another man. Showing to them that as long as you get spanked, you don’t care who it is.”

Paul whimpers, nervously clutching at the thick hotel duvet with his hands, his head bowed low, shoulder blades prominent. Schneider rests his hand calmly on Paul’s clenched thigh, his voice venomous as he continues, watching the back of Paul’s head, “Absolutely abhorrent behavior. After this, you’ll think twice before you decide to disobey me in such an unspeakable way again.”

A quiet sob muffled behind cloth tells Schneider more than Paul could ever say in words. He’s apologizing, regretful in his actions, seeking to make it right. Evidently, he’s ready—ready to please him. Considering how his cock is now fully erect, easily felt through Schneider’s pants, he’s looking forward to it as much as Schneider is.

“I’m going to spank you for as long as I like,” Schneider says, voice thick with arousal now, sweeping his gaze back down to his cute backside, squeezing it firmly in his fingers, watching the flesh bunch and his knuckles whiten, “And I do think the punishment must fit the crime. So it will be quite a while until we’re done.”

Paul cries weakly, hand slipping down from the bed to lightly grip Schneider’s ankle, holding on as an anchor, rather than a request for mercy. Schneider keeps one hand nestled between Paul’s shoulder blades, tucked under his shirt, the other rubbing lightly in circles over his ass while he steels himself to begin. He doesn’t think about the risk, the noise it’ll create, the regret that will come after. All he can think about is beating his ass red to reclaim what is rightfully his. 

Raising his hand, Schneider finds the first spank wonderfully satisfying: a sharp crack against one of Paul’s asscheeks has the smaller man grunting in shock, his backside rippling from the force. Schneider internalizes his grin. Already, he’s so pleased to be spanking him again, having him over his lap, after Paul himself so eagerly offered this to him. Without hesitance, he begins whipping his ass with cracks of his hand that start light at first, intensifying to rougher, more forceful strikes of his palm and fingers—the sound is far from quiet, and Paul’s sharp inhalations and muffled grunts are easily overwhelmed by the crack of skin.

He manages to stay still for the first ten strikes or so, only lifting his head, tensing his asscheeks, or squeezing Schneider’s ankle. Schneider enjoys the hue of pink that blooms on his cute backside. Roaming his hand along Paul’s back, he gropes so hard at his asscheeks, Paul grunts louder in pain, legs kicking up. Schneider knows it hurts. Precisely why he’s squeezing him so tightly. His fingers whiten from the force of which he gropes firmly at his ass, until Paul is shaking his hips and whining. Schneider spanks him sharply at that, which has Paul jolting—and then Schneider continues.

The piercing cacophony of Schneider beating his hand again and again over the seat of Paul’s ass shatters the silence of the hotel room. Paul’s legs are wiggling restlessly now, his pants jingling noisily as he fidgets, his hand retracting from Schneider’s leg to instead grab at the covers. He groans in pain around the gag in his mouth. Schneider revels in it, seeing the similarities in the way Paul restlessly moves his shaking legs, his asscheeks rippling from the force of his strikes, shoulders and back twisting and turning in another outlet to release the pain. Schneider presses his hand firmly to the center of his back, stilling his squirming.

Schneider doesn’t give him a reprieve. Repeatedly, he lifts his hand just enough to strike it down upon his asscheeks, alternating between them with increasing force—harder and harder, until the crack of skin is becoming a bit too loud, and Paul is screaming around the gag, muffled and made quiet by the sock stuffed in his mouth. He’s squirming his legs around, limited due to the lack of range with his pants still around his knees. His balls are revealed to him with his quivering thighs spreading, his cock pinned down against Schneider’s thigh. 

This gives him an idea. In the midst of beating his hand against him, Schneider pauses for only a moment to grip his asscheek and pull him open, revealing to him his taint and asshole. Obviously, they weren’t planning on this, so Paul hasn’t shaven down here. Not that it’s an issue. His hair is naturally fairer on this part of him. Schneider spanks him right there between his asscheeks, striking his fingers along his sensitive hole and warm taint. Paul’s hips lurch, his back arching and head raising. He gasps sharply around the gag, and then twists to look back at him with wide eyes and red cheeks. Schneider immediately clutches a fistful of his short hair and shoves him back down. Paul cries out in pain. He rightfully keeps his face pressed to the bed, hands clutching at the covers, curling his shoulders in submissively. 

“You need to learn to stay still and accept your goddamn punishment,” Schneider breathlessly snarls, curling his hand around the back of his neck, keeping him restrained, “Nod if you understand.”

Paul nods shakily into the bed, without hesitance. Schneider releases his neck.

Regaining his breath and giving Paul a reprieve, Schneider takes a moment to admire: Paul is haphazardly draped over his lap now, his legs curled up and nearly falling off the bed. His ears are a bright red—as is his backside. It’s a blaring red now, a result of Schneider’s merciless spanking. His thighs are quivering still. Schneider is incredibly erect in his pants, a wetness felt in his underwear. He’s a bit too aroused, really—it’s clouding his judgment. He’ll have to have Paul suck him off after this. Then… He can reward him afterwards with an orgasm. But they need a finale.

“Now,” Schneider begins, taking in a deep breath, lightly stroking his hand over Paul’s sweat-slicked back under his shirt, “I want you to reach back and keep yourself spread. This will be the last of it, then you’re done, Paul.”

Breathless and weak, Paul moans around the gag, a muffled plea. He hesitates. Schneider raises his hand high, and brings it down with such force against his ass, Paul lurches and cries out in agony around the gag, the crack of skin piercing the room. Paul sniffles and whimpers, reaching back to shakily spread his asscheeks apart with firm fingers, gripping himself tightly to maintain the hold. Schneider appreciates the view granted to him. Paul reluctantly showing him his most intimate place, shameful in how he holds himself open. That is just too good. Schneider barely withholds his own squirming, eager to touch himself, or have _Paul_ touch him. But that isn’t what he wants most of all. What he wants most of all is to spank the hell out of Paul’s asshole.

“Good boy,” Schneider murmurs roughly, bringing his hand down. Paul shivers when he begins petting lightly over his balls and taint, up to his clenching hole. Schneider would very much like to make use of his tongue right now, but that isn’t the point of this game. Schneider circles the flat width of three fingers over his hole. Paul moans softly around the gag. He readjusts his hands around himself, getting a better grip to keep himself open. Schneider feels him shuddering atop his lap, uncontrollably, involuntarily. Anticipating it.

In five light slaps of his fingers, Schneider warms him up to it. Lightly spanking over his taint and hole, earning jolts of Paul’s thighs and sharp whimpering from around thick cloth in his mouth. Leaning over, Schneider can see his cock pinned to his thigh—he’s greatly pleased that there are long lines of pre-cum dripping from the tip, sticking to his jeans. 

Schneider briefly pauses to massage his balls, gripping them in his big fingers and kneading at them gently. Paul grunts and spreads his thighs more—as much as his restraining pants will allow him to. Reaching under, Schneider tucks his hand around his cock, pulling it out to lay flatly against his jean-clad thigh, exposing him entirely. Paul groans. Schneider pets at it, tickling at the frenulum, teasing the concentration of nerves. Paul lurches, and then laughs around the gag, a muffled giggle. Schneider doesn’t want him to regress from his headspace. So, he lightly spanks over the head of his cock with his four fingers. Paul jerks and whimpers loudly. He moves to close his thighs again. Schneider doesn’t allow it. He pushes his legs apart and then roams his fingers along the stiff underside of his cock.

“Be still,” he murmurs thickly, “Be a good boy.”

Paul is trembling. He groans softly around the gag. Schneider lets his fingers roam up from his cock, over his balls, and then across his taint. He simply rests them in the crevice of his ass, over his clenching asshole. Paul is whimpering continuously, shakily readjusting his hold on himself, spreading himself further apart again. He keeps losing his grip. Schneider reaches around again. He curls his fingers around his cock and balls, gripping them in a big hand. Squeezing them possessively, but not to the point of pain. Holding onto them firmly, Schneider enjoys Paul’s shaky sniffling and restless squirming. And then he begins.

He spanks his four fingers across his hole. Paul’s legs jerk, knees knocking into the bed and Schneider’s leg. He whimpers again, muffled around the sock in his mouth. Schneider pauses for just a moment, and then continues.

In five quick whips of his fingers, he spanks over his asshole with careful force—but enough to have Paul fidget and cry out around the gag. His knees repeatedly hit against the bed. He’s wiggling too much. On the sixth spank, Schneider is off mark and hits Paul’s fingers considering he’s moving his hips now. 

“Stay still!” Schneider snarls, gripping him by the wrist. Paul sobs again. His sniffling is getting noisier. He obediently readjusts his grip on his asscheeks, and stops moving around. He waits patiently, his feet now braced against the floor instead of uselessly curling his legs up. Schneider maintains the firm grip around his junk, simply holding him while he reassumes position; he rubs his fingers over his hole and taint, in slow circles that has Paul shakily exhaling in pleasure. 

The first sharp spank over his hole has Paul’s legs clenching up and quivering in strain. He just manages a choked cry around the gag. He’s obviously struggling to stay still.

“Good boy,” Schneider praises, roaming his hungry eyes along his body. His arms are tensed, muscles in his forearms clenched as he keeps himself spread—his slim fingers are digging into his asscheeks, white-knuckled in strain. If only to worsen his fearful anticipation, Schneider merely lets his fingers rest over his hole. Paul is huffing noisily, sniffling occasionally, shifting his legs just minutely. Schneider feels his cock pulsing in his grip. He readjusts his hand around his fragile parts, gripping them with sadistic possessiveness.

“You won’t ever look for another man to satisfy your needs, will you?” Schneider murmurs with threat, and then promptly slaps his fingers down over his clenching asshole. Paul grunts in pain, his legs twitching, clenching up—his entire body ripples with tension, struggling to remain still. He shakes his head sharply. Schneider continues calmly, tightening his fingers around his junk while he whips his fingers against his hole, “I know you can be a good boy, Paul. Sometimes, you just don’t think—but I’ll always be here to guide you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you _listen_ and _obey_.”

He never falters in his ministrations as he speaks, continuously beating his fingers over his clenching hole while Paul screams around the gag. Focusing now, Schneider goes silent if only to keep aim while spanking his fingers harder and harder against his hole, until Paul is sobbing loudly around the gag and beginning to squirm again, legs jumping and thighs closing. His grip slips; he lets go of his ass, hands jerking down against the bed. Schneider growls. He releases his cock and balls if only to grab onto his asscheek and pull him open again. 

Bearing his weight into Paul, arm braced against his back, he keeps him pinned while he resumes delivering punishment: he spanks his asshole again and again, striking his fingers down upon it and his taint, until Paul is twisting his hips out of it and crying desperately around the gag. And then suddenly, he just jerks off of Schneider’s lap, collapsing onto the floor with a thud. Schneider is stunned, watching him curl up and reach back to cover himself with both hands. 

“That—That will do,” Schneider breathlessly says, shocked. Paul whimpers. He turns slightly onto his shoulder to look back at him. He’s further surprised by the tears on Paul’s face, his running nose, his watering, pleading eyes. Schneider moves to kneel beside him on the carpet. Paul looks up at him with a gaze asking for mercy. Schneider reaches out to untie the gag, slipping the cloth from his mouth. Paul weakly slackens his jaw, opening his mouth for Schneider to reach in and pull out the sock soaked in spit. Paul takes in a shuddering breath, collapsing back against the carpet with his hands skimming down his sides to grip his cock. He begins stroking at himself. Schneider acts immediately.

“Don’t make me spank you again!” he snaps, grabbing him by the wrists and wrenching his hands away. Paul whines, twisting his body petulantly in complaint, looking up at him with needy eyes and a prominent pout on his mouth. 

“I need to come, please, sir, let me come,” he whispers, voice hoarse and hushed, searching Schneider’s flushed face with hope. Schneider huffs in disbelief. 

“No. You will not be rewarded just yet. Your punishment isn’t over.”

Paul looks at him with shock. Schneider releases his wrists. Paul watches Schneider undo his pants and get them open. He pulls out his thick cock, flushed deeply and slick with his pre-cum. He reaches out to grab a loose fistful of Paul’s hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him up. Paul knows what he wants.

He gets up, scrambling over, and leans down. Kneeling back on his calves with his legs spread, Schneider watches with satisfaction as Paul immediately takes his cock into his mouth, no hesitation. The sound of his sucking fills the room. Melting a bit, Schneider watches with an open mouth and hooded eyes, hand curling around the back of his neck. Paul’s eyes are closed, brow knit in focus, cheeks hollowed. Slim fingers curl around the base of his cock, holding it in place as he moves his mouth over his sizeable shaft, thick and burning with arousal between those pink lips. 

“That’s it,” Schneider murmurs with approval, lightly clutching a fistful of his messy hair, observing him as he works his mouth, “Good boy.”

Meanwhile, he admires the length of Paul’s half-naked body, curled up on the carpet, his cock peeking out from between his freckled thighs, pants still around his ankles. Utterly debauched, and servicing him. Paul is panting hard around his cock, struggling to suck in breaths while his focus remains on pleasing him. His mouth and chin become messy with his spit, his cheeks a deep red and still bearing the tracks of his tears. He looks like a wreck. Schneider enjoys this version of him. He continues gripping the back of his neck, watching, jaw clenched and eyes fiery with lust as the building, surfacing fire of his orgasm rises. Paul is admittedly quite good at giving head. He pulls off then, momentarily, if only to gasp for air and rest his cheek against Schneider’s thigh.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Schneider says factually, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his head back into place, guiding his cock back into his mouth. Paul whimpers, pleading, but does as he’s told. He begins bobbing his head again, sucking harshly as he raggedly breathed through his nose. Schneider groans. Paul shifts closer on his knees, propped on his elbows for leverage. He begins working his mouth further down his shaft, taking more and more, until his nose is smashed into Schneider’s belly, and his mouth is open wide around the base of his cock. He chokes around him, coughing, while Schneider growls in pleasure, and says, “Good boy. There you go.”

Carefully, Schneider arches his hips, slowly forcing more into his throat, while Paul coughed and pushed at his thighs weakly, though without genuine struggle. Uncomfortable, but unable to pull away. Paul’s face is flushed obscenely from the strain, his eyes clenched shut and brow tightly knit. He coughs and chokes around him. Schneider is shaking, badly—he’s so close. Paul pulls off then, gasping for air. He collapses against Schneider’s lap, hands limp against his thighs. He sucks in shuddering breaths, coughing weakly. Schneider lets him take a moment to breathe, but he doesn’t let him slack off. He grabs him by the wrist of one of his weakened hands and brings it inwards. Paul understands; he grips his spit-soaked cock and begins stroking at him, keeping his cheek upon his thigh, eyes hooded, watching.

But soon enough, he lifts his head once more to begin licking at the sensitive frenulum while he pumped his hand across his shaft, eyes downcast in focus. Schneider is huffing now, thighs clenched and belly sucking in. Paul angles his head to mouth wetly along the side of his cock, back up again to the head to suck it into his mouth. He lets it pop in and out of his mouth with harsh suction, looking up at Schneider with a coy smile in his eyes. Schneider continues holding his hair in a loose fist, unable to tear his gaze away. The shocking jolts of pleasure ping-ponging through his lower half as Paul continues working the head in and out of his mouth is really all it takes.

“Take—more into your mouth—” Schneider gasps, pulling him in, closer. Paul immediately obeys; he lowers his head, easily sucking more than half of his cock into his mouth, cheeks hollowed with tight suction. He nurses at him so harshly, he practically pulls his orgasm out of his dick through force alone. Schneider bursts out an unintentional curse as his body locks up, legs clenched and quivering from where he kneels, sweat dripping down from his skin. His orgasm hits him powerfully, hard enough it has him collapsing back onto a hand, his other extended to grip Paul’s hair, keeping him rooted as he thrust into his mouth—short, rapid snaps of his hips that lengthen the pleasure without choking the other man. Paul hums around him, continuing to suck as Schneider worked his hips, his hand gripping the base of his cock to keep it steady.

“Swallow it.” Schneider growls, pushing in far with one final arch of his hips, startling a cough out of Paul, who regathers composure and only sucks harshly, swallowing thickly around his shaft. It becomes too much, too soon—Schneider reluctantly slides out of his mouth. Paul leans in to kiss wetly over his trembling thighs, hands stroking up to his hips worshipfully. He looks up at him and licks his lips with a smile.

“Can I come now, sir?” he asks simply, planting his hands upon the carpeted floor of the hotel room, rising up to come face to face with him. Searching in those hopeful gray eyes, Schneider flicks his tongue between his lips, contemplating it. He nods.

“Lay back against your elbows.”

Paul grins and obeys immediately; he moves to lean back against the floor, kicking off his pants, and then braces himself with his elbows, legs demurely spread. Schneider tucks his softening cock back into his jeans and fixes himself up once more. Crossing his legs, he gestures towards Paul’s lower half with a hand.

“Go on. Touch yourself.”

Happy to oblige, Paul licks his hand and reaches down to grip himself. Staring, Schneider admires: his cock is longer than it is thick, but he is still quite big. The head is a soft pink, repeatedly enveloped by his foreskin as he begins to stroke at himself slowly. Schneider watches the bead of pre-cum build and build at the slit, only to be swept up with a stroke of those slim fingers. Paul is beautiful, really, and Schneider could watch him forever. 

He’s unashamed in being studied like this. He watches Schneider with a little smile on his face, his cheeks flushed and eyes somewhat hazy. Schneider is unable to speak, finding himself mute with appreciation. Paul’s visible abs, his firm arms, a muscular chest dusted lightly with hair, his dark pink nipples. The sharpness of his jaw, the plushness of his lips which fall open with a silent moan. His eyes dropping from Schneider’s face to watch himself touch his cock. Schneider thinks to himself that he’s quite lucky to see Paul in such a manner. 

“I’m not far off, sir,” Paul murmurs, earning his gaze, “Can you come over and kiss me?”

Schneider smiles weakly. He unravels his crossed legs and slides over across the floor. Paul looks up at him with a grin and relief in his eyes. Schneider plants his hands on the floor for stability to lean in and kiss him. Paul angles his head to deepen it, and they begin to share mouths. A deep, passionate back and forth mashing of their lips, unashamed and well-practiced. Paul hums into it—Schneider can hear the telltale sound of him quickly pumping his hand over his cock, now enthusiastic and indulgent. Paul moans softly into the kiss. Schneider can feel the vibrations through Paul’s tongue, and their joined lips. Licking into his mouth, Schneider tastes his moans.

Paul’s harsh, heavy breathing bursts from his nose, puffing against his face, while he gasps for air in-between the overlapping of their wet mouths. Schneider bites his bottom lip between his teeth, and holds it—Paul moans openly, breathless and weak. Schneider opens his eyes to see the dazed look on Paul’s face, his eyes fixed up on the ceiling, only to roll back into his head while his eyelids fluttered. Based on the choked sounds coming from him, Schneider concludes he’s coming. Once again, Schneider connects their mouths fully, kissing him hard while Paul barely responded, dazed from his orgasm. His lips are shaky and slow under his own. Weakly pursing, only to go still again. Schneider pulls back, breaking the kiss with a departing bite to Paul’s lip. He glances over.

Cum is dripping from Paul’s slim fingers, droplets clinging to his heaving belly. Paul is panting heavily. Pleased, Schneider turns back to him, and Paul returns the look. Searching in his weakened eyes, Schneider leans in to kiss his forehead. Paul huffs an amused laugh.

“My asshole hurts,” he mumbles, “Can you kiss that better, as well?”

**Author's Note:**

> The last 1k words or so are lazy because I just wanted to finish this fic already, for the sake of publishing it, and I didn't feel like rewriting it. It's been sitting in my WIPs for two months. Sorry for that low quality of writing lmao
> 
> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


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